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It’s a sad fact, but the one thing we all have in common is that one day we will leave this earth (or, depending on what you believe in, be reincarnated or remain as a spirit).

But what about the people we leave behind, the ones who have to deal with the loss?

We asked people what it’s really like to lose someone you love, and how they coped afterwards – what worked, and what didn’t.

From mums and dads, to siblings and grandparents, here are tales of loss to hopefully help others understand how grief affects people.

And how to move forward from it.

Pamela, 48, lost her mum when she was 22

I’ve lost quite a few people in my life, including my mum who died when she was 47 and I was 22.

I would say things that helped me get through it were doing routine things such as going to work and doing regular activities, things you normally do like exercise and listen to music. I also remember happy times with her.

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It didn’t help when people tried to avoid me because they didn’t know what to say, that hurt me more. I would recommend that you give yourself time to heal, take things at your own pace.

Emma, 29, lost her mum a year ago

The best piece of advice anyone gave to me after my mum’s death was just to ‘feel how you feel’. Other people seem to have a tendency – particularly in the immediate aftermath of loss – to tell you how you’re feeling, or how you should be feeling.

Perhaps it’s out of awkwardness and not knowing what to say. For me, phrases like ‘every day you will feel a little bit better’ weren’t just annoying platitudes, but also incorrect. There was (is) no chronology to my grief, no rational system of ‘progress.’

Even now, but especially early on, some days I could operate like a functional human being, other days I couldn’t get out of bed. Being told to feel what I feel validated my sense of utter lack of control and being at the mercy of emotions.

For quite a long time, I had to just go with it, and find peace with that.

Emily*, lost her dad on Christmas Day

I lost my dad on Christmas Day when I was 16 and think in some ways I coped well, and in others not so much.

My mother coped quite badly, so a lot of the responsibility for organising the funeral fell to me.

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As a 16-year-old suddenly feeling desperately helpless and angry at the world, this small area of control helped me grow into my new role as an adult and support my mother.

Making the decision on important details like the flowers and coffin helped me feel closer to my dad.

Also, they didn’t do it on purpose, but looking back when I started to rely quite heavily on alcohol as a coping mechanism, my friends didn’t encourage it but also didn’t really notice the harm it was causing either.

If I wanted to party and drink they were happy to join, so it escalated quite a lot, and the thought of a drink started to become the thing that got me through difficult days or weeks.

(Picture: Ella Byworth for Metro.co.uk)

Peter*, 31, lost his grandfather to cancer

I lost my grandfather 10 years ago. We were extremely close and his passing was a massive shock after a very brief battle with cancer.

In ‘dealing’ with his death, I basically bottled everything up and concentrated on being there for my extended family, never really addressing the loss and focusing on being strong for everyone else.

In hindsight, this was the worst thing I could do. I started to drink more frequently and would go for an all-night drinking session at least once a week, usually more.

These would end up with me being emotional about his passing, as the crutch of alcohol allowed me to actually address what I’d bottled up, but hardly in a helpful manner.

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My grandfather was very religious, and even though I never was, I would often find myself attending a morning mass straight from the previous nights drinking, which I’m sure he would have found hilarious in it’s stupidity.

After a few years I was able to address the loss in a more helpful (and less alcohol-induced) manner and would always advise people to talk as much as possible, even if they don’t feel like it.

Dee, 35, lost her brother and her mum

I lost my brother in 2001 and followed the ‘stiff upper lip’ approach – which did not work and I learned from it a lot.

10 years later, I had a lot of counselling which essentially saved me.

When my mum died in 2014, I booked counselling immediately and although the experience was and is incredibly painful, I feel I have dealt with the process far better than previously.

Jo, 26, lost her dad when she was seven years old

I lost my dad from a stroke when I was seven, so I know what it’s like to deal with loss at a young age. I’ve also lost all my grandparents and they died during some of the most stressful periods of my life.

Loss isn’t easy to go through, it’s heartbreaking! But it does get less painful in time.

I went to see a counsellor at the Wakefield Hospice with my mum and sister when we lost my dad. As a family we support each other and accepted that we continue living without my father. I remember having my first bereavement meeting and playing a board game, talking about my feelings and how I felt a great sense of anger and sadness for having him be taken away from me.

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My father was my best friend, he was the person who helped me become the strong person I am today.

Peter, 19, lost his mum to brain cancer

After the rawness is gone, there comes a long period of readjusting your life around your loss.

When I lost my mum, I lost my rock. I felt incredibly lost in the world.

People expressing their sympathy was all well and good, but it soon got tedious.

If you really want to help someone: listen to them.

Try to work out what that loved one meant to them and what is now missing from their life. Were they a confidante or an advice giver?